


Bandit's Looking Glass AU writings

by DragonBandit



Series: Bandit's Tumblr Prompt Collection [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Looking Glass - Feynite
Genre: Characters and Universe belong to Feynites, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pride is a version of Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/pseuds/DragonBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of things I have written for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite">Feynites</a> AU  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4867676/chapters/11157401">Looking Glass </a>which is amazing and you should all go read it now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a/b/o meme: 50-: “I don’t care if you’re also an alpha, I want to claim you.”

For a moment she thinks she hasn’t heard him correctly. Surely Pride is not seriously asking what her ears have heard. It must be an error in her skills in the language; still annoyingly prevalent thanks to the long centuries that stand between her knowledge of elvhen and the language that is used here. Perhaps it is a saying that she has not heard before. Though she is unsure what exactly those words could mean outside of what she has interpreted them as.

Pride is looking at her, bottom lip caught between his teeth and looking so vulnerable that she wants to reach out and keep him safe from whatever it is that is hunting him.

“Could you say that again?” she asks.

“I wish to claim you,” Pride repeats. There is a blush high on this cheeks. The stark white lines of his Vallaslin only make the red that more obvious. She comes to the startling revelation she has not misinterpreted at all.

Oh. Oh no. Why is he asking her this?

She should say no. She is not an omega, nor a beta. There is no reason for him to ask this of her. Anyway, she is far too broken for him. Her heart still belongs to another man. A man that is dead and a fading memory that she knows will one day fade into oblivion. Even the thought of Solas is enough to make her chest ache.

Solas had never asked to claim her, she thinks as she regards Pride with shock that she dearly hopes does not show on her face. She had thought nothing of it at the time. Solas had been a beta, at least she had always assumed he was. He would have had no reason to ask this of her.

Since arriving in the past she has been presented with the evidence that that had just been another thing he had lied about. It does not hurt as much as it once did.

She had never asked to claim Solas either. There had never been time for it. Maybe, if he had stayed after Corypheus, if he had not started a bloody revolution that had ripped her world apart.

Perhaps it is best that she had never asked to claim him. Officially or unofficially. Maybe at the end there had been something. But by then it had been far too late.

Pride is worrying the sleeves of his robes. The air is muddled with his scent, an alpha close to rut. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and part of her thinks, challenge, while another thinks she should press her nose against where that scent would be strongest. She ignores them both.  

“I am an alpha,” she says.

Pride’s gaze drops. His mouth tightens into a grimace. She can only watch him in sheer confusion as he tries to pull away from her.

“Of course,” Pride says. “Forgive me I should not have asked that of you.”  

“Why did you ask?”

His face twists. “I apologise for insulting you. It was a mistake to presume that you–”

Her hand reaches out of it’s own volition to rest her palm against his cheek. Whatever speech he had planned dies in his throat.

“I am not angry,” She says, “Just confused.”

She is not so much a stranger in this world now that she has realised that for all it has changed there are things that stay the same. There are still Alphas and Betas and Omegas. It is still the norm for alpha’s near the start of their ruts to ask an omega or beta to help them through it. Just as it is the norm for an omega nearing heat to do the same.  

She knows that it is not the norm for an alpha to ask another alpha to help ease the rut. Yet Pride is obviously not joking. A lot of confusing feelings are taking residence in her stomach. Her palm can feel the heat of his blush travelling up her arm.

“I was not aware that there was anything to be confused by.” Pride informs her. She swallows around a lump in her throat.

“Wouldn’t you rather have someone else? An omega? Or beta?” Surely there must be someone for him, someone more suitable than her “Do you not have a–partner for this?”

How many ruts has he had, she wonders. They are not yearly here, otherwise she would have noticed. Time moves so slowly in this place. It is that more than anything that makes her homesick for her lost world.

“I do not have anyone.” He informs her. “Nor do I wish to have anyone else but you.”

He looks into her eyes, his own pupils huge with banked desire. Her mouth dries very suddenly, an answering heat growing in her stomach. Oh no.

She should say no.

She does not want to say no.  

The hand not resting on Pride’s cheek curls into a fist. She stares at him, again, until he is shuffling uncomfortably but this time he does not lose his resolve. His eyes stay trained on her own. His posture shifts until he is almost towering over her–how has she never realised how tall he is until now?

The scent of him is everywhere when she breathes in a startled breath. The clean scent of the cold and ever present magic. And below that the musk of rut. He is very close, she realises. Far more than she had thought. He does not have much time. If he were from her clan his parents would have already have locked him in an aravel. Lest something unfortunate happen and he lose control of himself just in time to make a complete fool of himself.

In fact he smells almost exactly like Vathorn right before he tore all his clothes off and tried to stick his tongue down the throat of the first omega he could see. Imagining Pride in that context is somehow incongruous. Her brain hurts just thinking about it. Her brain hurts thinking about Pride naked at all.

Well, hurts and also wonders intently and in great detail what is hiding under that armour. She is sure that she is blushing now.

“You are sure that you want me to help you through this?”

“I am sure.” Pride says. Before his mouth twists again and he places a hand over the one that she still has on his cheek. “No, I do not wish for you to help me.”

“Then what–”

“I wish to claim you.” Pride says, “Or– I wish for you to claim me. I am unsure of the protocol we should follow considering our respective biology and I find myself rather at a loss on what is meant to happen.”

She steps towards him. The space between their bodies closes as she invades his space and straightens her spine. His throat bobs when she presses her teeth gently to his pulse point. If they are going to do this she is not going to be a soft omega for him. Though she finds the idea of having a matching mating mark on her own neck is rather desirable. She has to raise herself onto  her tiptoes to reach, and his arms wrap around her waist in an effort to balance her.

“There will be talk,” She reminds him. A breath against his skin.

“I don’t care.”

“Then let’s find out how this works.” she says, right before she bites a dark bruise into his neck.


	2. a/b/o list, maybe 21? ([public place] stay calm, I just started my heat)

Curiosity pauses in the middle of the excited lecture she’s been giving Uthvir about the migratory habits of a species of bird she’d spotted flying over the courtyard of Andruil’s holdings. Uthvir looks over at her, raising an eyebrow.

They’re on Curiosity-sitting duty. Or Curiosity is on Uthvir-sitting duty as The Doll and Wolf wander around doing terribly sneaky things that Uthvir privately thinks of as ‘tearing each others clothes off and making mad love on whatever horizontal surface we can find and a few we can’t.’ Save for the fact that they know it’s far more boring than that because Uthvir has never met two people more obviously in love without being bonded in their life.

Either way, their secret plans means Uthvir and Curiosity end up having nothing to do. Seperately, Uthvir would like to point out. Technically they could stand up right now and walk away. There is nothing tying them to the strange spirit-born. Nothing at all.

…Except the part where Uthvir is trying to be friendly. And stay on the Doll’s good side because that woman is scary when she gets mad. If that means listening to rambling for a good few hours then so be it. Anyway, Curiosity doesn’t fit in Andruil’s holdings in a manner that is entirely too noticeable for it’s own good. Someone should make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.

“You were saying?” Uthvir prompts after a pause that stretches on a bit too long to be comfortable.

“I think I just started my heat,” Curiosity says.

What.

Uthvir stares.

“The insides of my thighs are very sticky and I’m hot inside. Like I’m running a fever but I don’t think I’m running a fever, because fevers are cold on the inside even though they are a raising in body temperature. And I want to—”

She breaks off in a breathy gasp as Uthvir presses their nose against her hair. Well, she’s right about the heat at least.

She’s trembling against them. The slightest tremor in her muscles as Uthvir scents at her. The smell of heat is faint, barely there. A sweet musk that rises out of her and into Uthvir’s head.

“It’s alright I’ll take care of you,” they murmur without thinking into a slender ear.

Curiosity whines. Loudly. “Please.”

The ferocity of her need threatens to take Uthvir over. Their senses full of writhing, needy omega. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve helped an omega through heat and it’s not like Curiosity isn’t pretty—

Curiosity.

Uthvir lifts their head from the distracting scent and swallows. They try to breathe through their nose as much as possible. Not an easy task when Curiosity is pressed against them in a truly distracting manner.

“Let’s get you to your alphas.” They say, standing up and searching for the nearest exit. Then they look through the crowd of people and rethink it. Heat’s a bitch and this is Curiosity’s first and Uthvir does not want to have to clean up vomit when all the scents mess up an already delicate balance in Curiosity’s body.

Curiosity doesn’t get up, instead peering up at Uthvir with wide eyes.

“What?” Uthvir growls, tugging up the stupid woman and trying very hard to ignore the quiet moan that comes out of Curiosity’s lips when she ends up near enough to bury her nose against Uthvir’s neck again.

They drag her to where the Doll’s–no the Wolf’s chambers are. That room’s slightly more secure.

“They aren’t my alphas.” Curiosity says.

That…Explains exactly nothing and everything. Curiosity giggles, “Did you really think they were my alphas?”

“I think,” Uthvir says slowly, “That if I don’t find your friends I’ll end up finding out how good the doll is at filleting elves.”

Curiosity just laughs at them. Uthvir saves their annoyance. Right up until the moment Pride opens the door and Uthvir gets to shove the giggling, moaning, fucking hot and needy as fuck, Curiosity in his face.

“You’re her friend,” they say with a savage smirk, when Pride looks at them with something akin to horror “Have fun!” 

 


	3. things you said under the stars and in the grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't quite line up with canon.

“They’re the same,” She says, when Pride finds her in the garden that has slowly become her domain. The other members of Mythal’s court still give her a wide berth. Though whether it is out of acknowledgment that she wants to be alone or because they find being around her uncomfortable, Pride does not know. 

He sits down next to her, “What are?” 

“The stars.” She explains. She smiles, sad and utterly heartbroken that makes Pride’s chest ache in sympathy. “Everything else is different but I can still recognise the night sky.” 

Pride joins her in staring upwards. Today the sky is clear, the colour of spilled ink with the bright pinpricks of stars mapping out the dome of the heavens. He has never paid much attention to it in all honesty. There have always been more interesting things on the ground or in the dreaming for him to think much of the sky. 

But he remembers a little. Enough to be able to point his arm up and ask “Was that called the pole star in your world as well?” 

“Yes. The eye of Drakon, though I suppose that names changed. You haven’t--your gods are different.” 

“I know it as the nose of a dragon,” Pride tells her, “I don’t recall the name.”

“When I was little I used to always bug my keeper for the stories of the stars.” Her hands curl in the grass, “Then I got older and thought I was too grown up to listen to made up stories.”

Pride does not understand, but he does not say it. He wonders if she will ever tell him more about her world past the fact that a wolf swallowed it whole and she was meant to stop him. She misses it, he is sure. Compassion and Sorrow keep her company too often for him to not come to any other conclusion. He wishes that he could help her with her grief. But it feels no matter how hard he tries he is only ever able to make her angrier, and sadder at being here. 

“Would you tell them to me?” He tries anyway. 

“Hm?”

“The stories,” Pride says, “I would be interesting in learning them.” 

She looks at him, head tilted and mouth just slightly open. “Of course, you would have never…” She stops. An uncertain smile makes it’s way across her face, “I would love to tell you them.” 

She looks skywards again, her right hand pointed up, and then to the left to a bright star strangely isolated from its fellows, “That’s the hare who leaps through fire, and there behind it, is a hunter…”

Pride listens dutifully, taking in the knowledge of a world that he will never see. He treasures every word, hoping that later he will be able to recall this moment in perfect clarity. 

The quiet stillness of a garden in the night time. The way the starlight played across her hair and armour, and the sword always strapped to her side. The way that after awhile she became caught in the story and her smile became less sad, and more bittersweet. 

Her left hand lies between their two bodies. It is small, unscarred thanks to being not originally hers. His hand dwarfs it when he takes it carefully. Her story falters when he does, just for a second, but she does not take her hand back. 

She is crying, Pride realises when someone lights a lantern in a nearby building. The lamplight throws highlights across her face where the tear tracks are. For a brief, mad second, Pride wonders what she would do if he kissed them away. 

He does not do it. It would not be proper, he has not even started to court her. But when she has finished her story, and is looking at him with more than a little bemusement (He is staring at her, he realises abruptly, and yet he cannot bring himself to drop his gaze). 

“I thought of a poem,” he says. “Can I share it?” 

She is silent for a moment. Pride hears the sound of elves in the distance. Mythal’s estate never truly sleeps but he had forgotten their existence until this moment in time. 

“Yes. I would like that.” 

Her hand turns in his own, and her fingers curl around his hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt me things!](http://bandit-writes.tumblr.com/)  
>  Also if this is not okay I will delete it.


End file.
